Where the Thread Leads
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Regulus has always seen the red strings. If only he can ignore the fact that his lover's leads to Sirius.:: RegRemus, implied Wolfstar:: Red String!AU for Caza


A/N: For the lovely Caza. Enjoy, dear!

I.

He's always seen red strings tied around people's pinkies.

"What's the red thread mean, Mother?"

Her brows raise. "What thread?"

"The thread. It connects you and Father."

But she only rolls her eyes. "Such imagination will do you no good, Regulus. Put it out of your mind."

OoOoO

He tries not to, but he still sees red everywhere.

Sometime it's stretched and twisted. Sometimes, it connects people to the person they're with, while other times, it doesn't (and Regulus wants to ask Auntie Druella why hers leads to Mr. Abraxas and not to Uncle Cygnus, but he keeps quiet).

Sometimes, it's not red. The color darkens to black and never goes back to normal.

OoOoO

"Do you see the strings?"

Sirius groans, peeking his head out from beneath his pillow. "What time is it?"

"Four in the morning," the eight year old answers. "Do you see them?"

"Reg, go back to bed, or I'll tell Mother you almost gave the elf your shirt."

Scowling, Regulus climbs off his brother's bed and stalks off.

OoOoO

He sits quietly in the corner, being a good boy and not causing trouble at his parent's party.

Strings weave in and out, leading this way and that, and Regulus stares curiously at his own hand.

"Why don't I have a string?" he wonders.

Beside him, Sirius snorts. "What is your obsession with strings? It's weird."

"But even you've got one! Why haven't I?" Regulus demands, a bit more loudly than intended- his father shoots him a warning look.

"Just shut up about the strings," Sirius groans, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

II.

Seven years later, the strings are still there. Regulus had hoped that they would disappear over time, but he's only gotten better at ignoring them. And as he sits in the corner of the room, wishing he could be anywhere but this stupid Slug Club party, he tries to pretend the strings aren't there.

Of course, they are. Even when he closes his eyes, he can still see the threads crossing, thin paths of crimson leading to who knows where.

Regulus opens his eyes, heaving a sigh.

"Remus, my dear boy!" Slughorn booms, and Regulus turns his attention to the latecomer.

He's seen Lupin before, but he's never really paid much attention to him before now. The fifteen year old looks awkward and uncomfortable as Slughorn pats him on the back and attempts loud small talk.

For once, Regulus forgets about the strings.

OoOoO

"Not slipping off already, are you, Lupin?" Regulus asks, casually stepping between the Gryffindor and the exit.

"This isn't really my thing," Remus says quietly.

Regulus grins. "Mine neither," he chuckles. "Fancy sneaking off? I reckon Slughorn has enough people here. He wouldn't miss us."

"Got a few Slytherin mates waiting to hex me in the corridor?"

Regulus snorts. "Please, don't insult me. That's more my brother's approach."

Hesitantly, Remus glances over his shoulder at the party before turning his attention back to Regulus. "All right, then."

OoOoO

"Isn't the Astronomy Tower a bit cliche?" Remus muses, though there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"I like it up here," Regulus says, leaning forward, his stomach pressing against the railing. "Gives me a place to think."

"And what do you think about?"

Regulus hesitates. For a moment, he considers answering honestly. The damn strings. But he is tired of people looking at him like he's insane whenever he brings them up. "Good and evil. The meaning of life. All that deep, philosophical bollocks."

"I do my deep thinking in the shower."

Regulus turns, a smirk playing at his mouth. "I'd like to see that."

"Are you flirting with me, Black?" Remus asks, and Regulus can see the faint glow of pink on his cheeks in the moonlight.

"And if I am?" he challenges.

Remus opens his mouth, but no coherent words come out. He mumbles and sputters, staring awkwardly at his hands.

"Yes," Regulus answers at last, tucking his fingers beneath Remus' chin and tilting the other boy's head back. "I am."

And Remus doesn't protest when he kisses him.

III.

Regulus likes to steal glances at Remus when they're in the same area, separated by House expectations. Sometimes, Remus catches him, and they share knowing smiles.

And he still doesn't care about the strings. He has something far more interesting to occupy his mind.

OoOoO

"Why do you keep looking at the clock?" Regulus asks, pulling away. "Got a hot date I should know about?"

The older boy blushes. Regulus loves that about Remus. He's so sweet, so pure, and it's far too easy to bring color to his face.

"My friends think I've gone to the library. They'll be expecting me soon."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "They can wait. They get you all bloody day, and I only get you for a few hours."

Remus starts to protest, but Regulus interrupts him with a kiss.

OoOoO

Regulus watches Remus at dinner that night.

He's always avoided looking at Remus' hands, but now his curiosity is too strong.

There. Just like so many others, a red string is tied around his finger, but this one has a short distance to travel.

Regulus grits his teeth as his eyes follow the string to Sirius.

IV.

Slughorn.

Regulus is certain that if anyone can answer his question, it's his Head of House.

"Professor?" he says, approaching the man when class ends. "I'd like to talk to you about something."

"If it's about last week's assignment, you did just fine, my boy."

Regulus shakes his head. "It's not that. It's-"

He pauses, staring at his hands- his stringless hands. His family has always told him it's his imagination. No one else sees them.

Maybe he's crazy. Maybe Slughorn will tell him that.

"What can you tell me about red strings?" he asks, finally looking at the professor again.

Slughorn raises his brows, studying his student. "Merlin's beard," he whispers, and there's no mistake the awe in his tone. "Can you see them?"

Regulus nods. "Can you?"

The older wizard shakes his head and sits at his desk. "No. But my Aunt Felicity could," he answers. "Most people don't even know they exist."

"What do they mean? Why don't I have one? Why is yours black?"

The last question makes Slughorn wince, but he quickly collects himself. "Fancy a bit wine, dear boy?"

"No, sir. The strings?"

"They're known as the Red Strings of Fate. Western civilization uses the word soul mate, however."

"Soul mate?" Regulus snorts, eyes rolling.

"Yes. The string leads you to your other half. Rather romantic notion, don't you think?"

"If you say so." Regulus holds up his hand. "And I don't have one because...?"

Slughorn shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "How do I put this? Forgive me, Regulus. An absence of a string represents a lack of a soul mate. Your path doesn't lead to anyone."

As ridiculous as the concept of soul mates might be, this hurts. Regulus wonders why he doesn't have one. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

"And the black strings? Yours is black."

"It was red once, when I was a boy," Slughorn answers quietly, his face falling. Regulus can't remember ever seeing the man look so serious. "It lead to a pretty Muggle girl in the village. Rebecca Havardy. Blonde curls, green eyes, and the brightest smile I've ever seen."

Regulus bites back a groan.

"She died. Tragic fire, took her entire family," he says. "Aunt Felicity said my string turned black that night."

"Oh."

"Good heavens! Look at the time. I've a meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Best be off."

V.

"Why do you keep looking at my hand?" Remus asks, holding up the hand in question.

"It's nothing," Regulus lies. "Don't worry about it."

"Are you okay? You seem a bit-"

With a growl, the younger boy tangles his fingers in Remus' tawny hair, pulling him in for a bruising kiss.

He can change things. He has to. If he can let every ounce of passion, every last drop of need find its way into the kiss, Remus will be his. The string will break and reconnect. It has to.

"Regulus," Remus gasps, pulling back. "You're hurting me."

Those words should bother him, but Regulus finds that he doesn't care. The string is still there, still leading its way to Sirius.

He pins Remus against the wall, kissing him harder, his lips desperate and hungry. "Please," he whispers into Remus' mouth. "Please."

But when he pulls away at last, chest heaving, the string has not changed. "Can't fight fate," he laughs bitterly.

"I should go."

"I wish your string lead to me."

Remus doesn't respond. Without a word, he pushes past Regulus and out the door.

Regulus knows where he'll go. To Sirius. To his destiny.

Never back to him.


End file.
